


Shiver

by levi_cas_tho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean Being an Idiot, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Temporarily Unrequited Love, accidental love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levi_cas_tho/pseuds/levi_cas_tho
Summary: Maybe it was because of this feeling, because of the fact that Castiel was still unaccustomed to the strength of human emotions. Maybe it was because he was happy and at ease and his guard was down. Maybe it was because Castiel had been aching to say something for years at this point. Whatever it was, something possessed Cas to shake his head fondly and say, “God, I’m so in love with you.”In which Castiel accidentally confesses his love, Dean acts like a total fucking idiot (I know, shocking), and they both have to find a way to deal with their feelings.Title from a song by Coldplay





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary, the title is from a song by Coldplay. I added lyrics as scene transitions throughout the fic. Some of the lyrics are out of order though. Pro-tip: listen to the song before/while reading for maximum feels.
> 
> Also, I cannot stress how much of an idiot Dean is. Enjoy!

They were in the kitchen when it happened. After no small amount of persuasion on Castiel’s part, Dean had finally given in and agreed to help Cas learn how to make chocolate chip cookies. They were a delicacy that the freshly-human ex-angel had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing, and he intended to change that.

An amazing aroma permeated the air as the cookies slowly expanded from the heat within the oven. Castiel watched in fascination, peering through the small window in the oven door, opting out of helping Dean put away the ingredients (much to Dean’s annoyance). Dean had been attempting to put the bag of flour back into its rightful spot on the top shelf of the pantry when the bag slipped out of his grasp proceeded to spill its contents _everywhere_. The air was filled with the off-white powder that now caked Dean’s hair, clothing, and skin. Cas gaped at the sight in surprise as Dean managed to grumble “jesus fucking christ what the actual fuck” before being cut off by a powerful sneeze.

And, for what may well be the first time as a human, Castiel burst into genuine laughter. The disgruntled look on Dean’s face in response only egged Cas on further, and soon he was gasping for breath and coughing as he inhaled the traces flour still floating in the air.

“What?” Dean demanded indignantly. “What’s so funny, huh?”

The hunter looked absolutely ridiculous as he stood there defiantly, white powder everywhere. Castiel himself wasn’t sure what his human body found so amusing about this situation, but the mirthful laughter continued nonetheless.

“You,” he managed to get out between chuckles.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him angrily, but Cas could detect a faint sense of amusement behind the glare. “Oh, what, is the sight of me covered in flour really that ridiculous?”

Cas could only nod eagerly, and he could almost detect the very second the idea popped into Dean’s head. Cas’s eyes widened. “Dean, no—”

Too late. Dean had already plucked up the now half empty bag and proceeded to mercilessly dump it right over Castiel’s head.

“Dean! I just washed this shirt!” Castiel tried to be reprimanding, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the laughter that still racked his body.

“Too bad,” Dean said gleefully. “Though I can see why you found it so funny now.”

Cas glared at him and coughed. He doubted it was healthy for a human being to inhale this much powder into their lungs.

“Oh, it’s not so funny once _you’re_ the one covered in flour, now is it?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, it’s still somewhat amusing,” he said as he eyed Dean’s appearance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean grumbled. There was a prominent pout on Dean’s lips, and Castiel felt a surge of affection at the sight.

Maybe it was because of this feeling, because of the fact that Castiel was still unaccustomed to the strength of human emotions. Maybe it was because he was happy and at ease and his guard was down. Maybe it was because Castiel had been aching to say something for _years_ at this point. Whatever it was, _something_ possessed Cas to shake his head fondly and say, “God, I’m so in love with you.”

They both froze at the words and Castiel found himself wishing he could reach into the air and grab them back.

“What?” Dean’s voice was a shocked whisper, his skin pale and his eyes wide.

Castiel cursed himself internally, all traces of previous contentment gone. How could he have been so _stupid_? He had spent _years_ mastering the art of concealing his emotions, and his idiotic self had to slip up _now_?

He needed a cover. He needed an excuse. He needed his powers back so he could go back in time and reverse this mistake, or at the very least so that he could disappear. But he had nothing. His mind was helplessly blank, flooded by panic.

So he said nothing.  And Dean said nothing. And they did nothing. They simply stood there staring at each other in shock as the flour in the air around them continued to settle and sink down to the floor. Castiel wished he could do the same.

Dean swallowed and Castiel’s eyes traced the movement of his adam’s apple. “ _Cas_ ,” he said, firmer this time. “What did you just say?”

“N-nothing, Dean, I didn’t say anything, it was a mista—”

“Woah, what happened in here?”

Dean’s head snapped to where the sound of Sam’s voice was coming from, but Castiel couldn’t tear is desperate gaze away from Dean’s face.

Dean cleared his throat loudly and took a step back, and only then did Castiel realize how close they had been standing.

“We, uh, we spilt some flour,” Dean said awkwardly.

Sam leaned against the doorway and snorted. “Yeah. I can see that. How the hell did you even manage—”

“Shut up, Sammy. Now help us clean this mess up, okay?”

Sam complied, and the three of them made quick work of dusting away most of the powder. Castiel avoided Dean’s gaze the entire time.

\--- **(so I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention, do you?** )---

Castiel didn’t say anything when Dean wordlessly passed by his place on the couch and left the bunker that night.

Castiel just sat there, looking down at his lap, embarrassment and humiliation and regret and longing waging a war inside his head. He and Dean had avoided each other for the entirety of the day after Castiel had made his Mistake. The cookies had been dry and had scratched Castiel’s throat on the way down. (Though, he had a feeling they would have been fine, had things between he and Dean been normal).

Castiel didn’t say anything when Dean staggered back through the door three hours later. He didn’t say anything when his eyes painfully caught on the hickey that adorned the hunter’s neck. He didn’t say anything as Dean slammed his bedroom door shut behind himself.

Castiel only wished that he was capable of not _feeling_ anything, either.

\---( **And I know you don’t listen to me, ‘cause you say you see straight through me, don’t you?** )---

In the morning, Dean wouldn’t look at him. Castiel was resolutely ignoring the hickey that was still on Dean’s neck. Or at least, he was trying to. The only sound was the clattering of their forks against the plates. Castiel usually found the taste of Dean’s scrambled eggs to be mouthwatering, but today he found their flavor lacking.

Dean cleared his throat suddenly and Cas tensed. “Look, Cas, we kinda need to talk about this.”

Castiel clenched his jaw and stabbed at his eggs with more aggression than strictly necessary. “No, actually, we don’t,” he said tightly.

An exasperated sigh escaped Dean’s ~~perfect~~ lips and he pushed his plate away. “Come on, Cas, don’t be like this.” Several moments of tense silence passed before Dean spoke up again. “I mean, did you, you know, mean it?”

“Dean—” Cas began warningly. Dean, as always, failed to listen to him.

“Because, like, if you did I guess I’m flattered, but you know I’m not gay, Ca—”

“ _Dean_.” For once, the hunter actually stopped. Castiel stared resolutely at some point to the right of the hunter’s head, inhaling sharply. He knew Dean wasn’t gay. He knew that even if Dean was, the was no way he could possibly return Castiel’s affections. Castiel was damaged. Castiel _had_ damaged. He had damaged Dean and Sam, he had damaged the Earth, he had damaged Heaven—

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded small somehow, but Castiel wasn’t sure if it was because it really had sounded that way or if it was because Castiel was shoving his mind far, far away from this situation to somewhere where he was safe.

Cas couldn’t stand the tension in the air. He roughly shoved himself and his chair backwards, causing the table to creak as it shifted slightly from the force. He forged an emotionless mask to cover his face as he stood. “I will be in my room.”

\----( **did you want me to change? well I’ve changed for good** )---

Cas didn’t leave his room for three days, except to head to the bathroom occasionally. The two hunters had given up trying to coax Castiel back out sometime around yesterday morning. Somebody—he wasn’t sure if it was Dean or Sam—had taken to leaving meal’s outside his door.

Castiel rarely ate them.

He spent the majority of his time staring at the wall, caught in a sticky web of remorse and regret. The feelings had dulled somewhat; Castiel assumed he was simply becoming used to them.

His emotional reaction to this situation was still somewhat of a surprise to him. He had always known that Dean could never possibly feel anything even remotely close to what Cas felt, but actual _experiencing_ the rejection was substantially more taxing. And then there was the fact that Dean was now _aware_ of his affections. This revelation had the potential to completely ruin the fragile relationship he had built up with the other man. And then there was of course the fact that he was human now. Emotions were much stronger, and Castiel had enough trouble coping with them as it was.

Nightmares plagued his sleep. Visions plagued his waking hours. Though, admittedly, this wasn’t a new development. Castiel had been fighting off his memories long before he became a human, and he had experienced his first nightmare on the very day he had fallen from grace. But now, when he had nothing else to occupy his feeble human mind with, they came more often. Castiel no longer made an effort to bat them away. They were a well-deserved punishment; a reminder of his sins and unworthiness. A reminder of why he would never deserve to even be _near_ the righteous man—let alone be loved by him.

As he gazed dully at the wall, he saw a floor littered with at least a hundred dead Deans, Naomi’s praise ringing out behind him. As he closed his eyes, he saw the crippled forms of his countless brothers and sisters plummeting to the Earth around him. As he slept, he saw Dean’s bloody face and pleading eyes boring into him, his split lips forming the words ‘I need you, Cas’.

Whilst on the run with the angel tablet, Castiel had allowed those four words to replay in his mind over and over again like a mantra. _I need you, Cas, I need you, Cas, I need you_. Cas had once hoped that they had meant— _no_. He had been mistaken, as he so often was. Dean had needed his _powers_. He had needed a convenient tool to beckon forward when necessary. He had not needed _Castiel_.

No one needed Castiel.

\---( **and I want you to know, that you’ll always get your way** )---

“Aha! Finally!”

Castiel tensed from his spot at the sink, the plate he had been washing slipping out of his hands with a thunk. He did not turn around. He could not turn around. He _wasn’t ready to face Dean, dammit._

He had ventured out of his room, as he did on a nightly basis, to shower and wash the dishes that he accumulated throughout the day—thanks to whoever was bringing him meals he had no appetite for. At night he was able to pass through the halls undetected; the Winchesters sleeping soundly in their beds. This method was a reliable way to avoid the two brothers—or rather, one brother in particular.

It _had_ been reliable, until tonight.

“Cas, man, I just want to talk.”

 _Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him._ “There is nothing to discuss.” Castiel’s voice was tight. A residual drop of water from his shower escaped his hair and dropped to the floor.

“Cas, _please,_ ” Dean said pleadingly. “It’s been five days. You can’t hide in your room forever.”

Castiel disagreed with that statement, but felt no need to argue. He hated arguing. Instead he remained silent, allowing seconds of silence to build up in the air between them.

Dean sighed. “Look, I really am sorry. I didn’t know that you—” Dean must have detected the way Cas’s shoulders tensed, because he mercifully stopped. “Please, Cas, I don’t want this to change anything between us. You’re my best friend, can’t we just go back to normal?”

Cas’s defenses crumpled, and he finally turned to look at Dean for the first time in nearly a week. He drinks in Dean’s appearance, green eyes still bright despite being adorned with dark circles, stubble spread across his jaw, plush lips tugged down into a barely-there frown.

Dean still wanted to be friends. This was what Cas had wanted, wasn’t it? This was what he had hoped for.

So then _why_ did it hurt so damn much when he gave Dean a weak smile and said, “Okay, Dean. If that’s what you want, we’ll do it”?

\---( **so you know how much I need you, but you never even see me, do you?** )---

That following morning, Castiel had cautiously stepped out of his room to attend breakfast with the brothers for the first time in nearly a week. Sam seemed surprised by his presence, but had mercifully declined to comment. Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be a ball of nervous energy. He spent the entire meal speaking enthusiastically about various topics, obviously trying to distract from the tension that _he_ was creating all on his own.

Castiel found himself grateful for it. It excused him from the task of participating in the conversation, Dean’s droning filling up the air all on its own. Though he barely ate, Cas was the first to ‘finish’ his meal, scaping the heaping pile of leftovers into the trash and dumping the plate into the sink as he retreated back to his room. He could feel two pairs of concerned eyes following his movements. He studiously ignored them.

The next month followed a similar pattern. Castiel still found his appetite lacking, and Dean still desperately tried to lighten the tense atmosphere. Neither of the made any reference to the Mistake. Sam seemed to become increasingly concerned. Castiel had once stumbled upon he and Dean caught in a whispered argument about how Castiel was faring. Both brothers had immediately stopped when they became aware of his presence, looking away shamefully. Cas had simply chosen to ignore them and had returned to the sanctuary of his room, his reason for venturing out in the first place completely forgotten.

He found it was easier this way. Ignoring things. It made his life much simpler; allowed him to do as he pleased without the guilt that came with worrying the brothers. If they were concerned, he could ignore their expressions and feelings. If that was too difficult to ignore, he could simply ignore his own feelings and guilt instead. Simple.

Simple, but not easy.

\---( **and is this my final chance of getting you?** )---

Castiel was pleasantly buzzed, the three beers he had gulped down swishing in his belly. This was nice, this numbness. It was bearable.

The hunt had gone well. A simple salt and burn. Just an angry spirit, trapped on this Earth due to her rage towards the man who had cheated on her and broken her heart.

Castiel had felt for her. He knew all too well how utterly painful love could be.

At least she was put out of her misery.

It had been Dean’s idea to hit up a bar. “A celebration of a job well done,” he had said. Castiel knew he was hoping to get Cas to have a little fun, to enjoy being human. How could anyone _enjoy_ something so painful? Castiel had still felt, of course, as an angel. But those feelings had been nowhere near as intense; they were somewhat dulled, somewhat manageable. Human emotions were unruly, they demanded attention like a stubborn toddler.

“What do you think, Cas?”

Cas looked up from his now empty glass and blinked owlishly at Sam. “About what?”

Sam squinted at him and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean griped. “Have you not been listening to a word we’ve said?”

Cas frowned a bit and shrugged, returning his gaze to the glass. Anything to keep himself from seeing Dean’s disappointment.

He heard it, though, in the way Dean huffed and stood up from they’re booth without a word, muttering something about needing a drink.

“Cas,” came Sam’s concerned voice, “you know you can talk to us, right? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas mumbled, still not lifting his gaze.

“Cas, seriously—”

The empty glass was tugged from Cas’s view and replaced with a new, full one as Dean plopped back onto the bench across from him. “Try not to drink this one too fast, alright? The last thing we need is a wasted ex-angel.”

Castiel ignored his warning, downing nearly all of it in one go. Dean glared at him.

“You know what? Fine, whatever. Don’t come running to me when you have a hangover in the morning.”

Cas just shrugged, turning back towards Sam. “What were you guys talking about before? When you asked for my opinion?”

“Oh,” Sam said, leaning forward to grab his drink. “Basically, I was talking about a possible hunt up in Nebraska. Looks like a classic case of vamp, but I’m not too sure about it. We could always just call some other hunters up to handle it instead.”

“I think we should go for it,” Dean added. “I mean, I’m always down for a new hunt.”

Castiel considered for a few moments, but really, what reason was there for them _not_ to go? It certainly beat moping around the bunker. “I would be okay with that.”

Dean grinned. “Alrighty then, it’s settled.”

They spent a few minutes figuring out the logistics of the trip: when they would depart, how long it might take, if they would need to get a hotel. Or rather, Dean and Sam figured it out. Castiel just sat there silently, finishing off what little beer was left in his glass and longing for more.

Eventually he just decided to get up and get a new one. This was a desire he could address, could do something about. This was something he could handle.

He quickly paid for his drink, thanked the bartender, and turned to go. He was stopped, however by a hand on his arm.

“Where you going, blue-eyes?”

Castiel frowned, turning to look at the man who had addressed him. He quickly assessed the situation, looking for any signs of a threat, before he realized that the man was _flirting_. With him. How utterly strange. Why would anyone take interest in Castiel?

The man was definitely attractive, by human standards. Light blond hair, chocolatey brown eyes, and a sculpted yet slim stature. Even though he was sitting down, Castiel estimated the man would be around his height when standing. So yes, he was attractive, but he wasn’t _Dean._

He offered the man a quick response of “to my table” before turning away and returning to where the Winchesters were seated. The beer sloshed around slightly as he plopped back into his booth, and he looked up to see Sam’s eyebrows raised.

“Cas, you know that guy was hitting on you, right?”

Castiel squinted at Sam. “Yes, I am aware,” he said slowly.

“I mean, are you, like, interested in him?” Sam asked curiously.

Castiel shot a glance back towards where the man was still seated at the bar. “He is attractive,” he admitted. The man noticed Cas’s staring and waved, offering a suggestive smile. Castiel sighed and turned back towards the brothers, accidentally catching Dean’s gaze for the first time since he returned from the bar.

Dean looked… angry, almost. Or maybe sad. It almost looked, just for a second, as though Dean _cared_. Actually _cared._ But it was gone just as quickly, snuffed out before the flame could even grow. Dean cleared his throat, broke the stare, and took a gulp of his whiskey.

Cas shook his head. He must have misread Dean’s expression. It was the beer. He was drunk, and he was seeing things that weren’t there, and he just couldn’t think straight. That was all.

\---( **and it’s you I see, but you don’t see me** )---

They left for Nebraska two days later. The drive passed quickly, Castiel gazing out the window for the entirety of the trip.

When agreeing to go on this hunt, he had not taken into consideration the fact that he would be forced into a small space with Dean for several hours. Sam was snoring in the passenger seat, and Dean was drumming his fingers and singing along softly to Ramble On.

Despite being broken beyond all repair, Castiel’s heart still found the strength to muster up a surge of fondness at the sight.

Luckily, the drive to Grand Island, Nebraska only took about two hours.

Unluckily, the motel they arrived at didn’t have any rooms with three beds. And they only had one room left.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean growled. “The one you’ve got doesn’t even have a couch or something?”

The receptionist seemed mildly intimidated, and Castiel shot her an apologetic smile to calm her nerves. “I’m sorry, sir, there’s nothing I can do. You might have some luck with one of the other motels…”

Dean shook his head. “All the other ones are completely full. ‘No vacancy’ signs everywhere.” He huffed in frustration before running a hand through his hair. “Whatever, just give us that one. With the queen and the twin. We’ll figure it out.”

The lady dutifully did so, despite obviously being shaken by Dean’s anger. Castiel would have to be sure to give her a generous tip when Dean wasn’t looking.

Dean was still irritated when they made their way out to the Impala to grab their bags. He tossed the room key at Sam as he popped open the trunk. “Sammy, you and I are sharing a bed.”

“No way, Dean,” Sam protested. “I can barely fit in motel beds on my own, let alone with someone else.”

“Well, suck it up, Samantha, ‘cause that’s what has to happen,” Dean shot back.

Castiel idly leaned against one of the awning’s support beams, watching the brother’s bicker back and forth with disinterest. This was gonna be a long night. Oh well. In the meantime he attempted to enjoy the feeling of the cool evening breeze brushing across his skin.

Fall was coming in, and Castiel found he much preferred the cold to the insufferable heat. Human bodies were such pesky things, so picky when it came to temperature. Cas had once been able to withstand both the simmering flames of the outer regions of hell, as well as the freezing climate towards the center. Now his weak body could barely handle a measly temperature of 110 degrees.

His thoughts were broken when Dean his hands up in frustration at something Sam had said. “ _Fine_. I’ll bunk with Cas, then.”

Castiel immediately straightened his posture, eyes widening in panic. No no no. Lord have mercy, there was no way Cas would be able to endure the torture of sharing a bed with _Dean_. It would kill him. It would shatter what little was left of his deteriorated heart.

Yet for whatever reason, when Dean turned to him and said, “that okay with you, Cas?”, Castiel traitorous head nodded yes.

\---( **and it’s you I hear, so loud and so clear** )---

Castiel couldn’t sleep. He had been lying in this stupid bed for nearly three hours, and he still couldn’t fucking sleep.

Dean Winchester was just inches away from him. With the slightest movement, Castiel would be able to reach over and touch him, should he so desire. And oh, did he desire.

But he couldn’t. For obvious reasons. So instead he was forced to just lie there and endure the torture of being so close to the man who still possessed his broken heart.

At least he was allowed to watch.

Dean always looked so peaceful in his sleep, so beautiful. As an angel Castiel had spent many nights watching over the hunter, despite the fact that he knew Dean would be furious if he ever found out. It was one of the things Cas missed most as a human. It would be far too risky to try and sneak into Dean’s room at night now, especially given the fact that he was such a light sleeper.

Castiel had once tried to count Dean’s freckles, but there were too many of them and he had always gotten distracted by other aspects of Dean’s face. Like, for example, his lips. The tended to pout slightly in Dean’s sleep, twitching sometimes in the midst of a dream. Or his eyelashes, which curved gracefully and contrasted with his golden skin. Or his cheekbones, or his nose, or his jaw, or literally anything else about Dean.

Castiel sighed and forced himself to shift his gaze to the bland ceiling. He needed to distract himself—he wasn’t allowed to have those thoughts about Dean anymore. Not now. Not ever.

His attention was once again diverted when Dean shifted in his sleep, burrowing closer to the warmth of Castiel’s body and humming slightly. Castiel froze when Dean draped an arm across his waist, tugging the ex-angel ever closer. His head was now resting partially on Castiel’s shoulder, their legs tangling together under the sheets.

Dear god.

Castiel could not breathe could not move could not _think_ beyond the sensation of having Dean wrapped around him. How he would ever survive this night was beyond his understanding. A futile glance at the clock revealed that it was only one o’clock.

Approximately six more hours. Six more hours of this torture.

As he desperately watched the clock’s minutes tick by, he began to relax incrementally. Okay, this wasn’t that bad. He could handle this. He could handle Dean’s soft breaths puffing against his skin, could handle the soothing warmth that emanated from the other man’s body. He could do this.

Of course, he would be lying if he said this wasn’t somewhat enjoyable. _This,_ this type of scenario, was exactly what he had spent years yearning for. It was what he _ached_ for. But the knowledge that Dean would never dare be comfortable doing this with Cas willingly made the experience more painful than anything.

The final straw came when Dean’s lips brushed against his collar bone, because _nope_ , no, Cas _was not_ that strong. Despite the instinct to scramble away, Castiel forces himself to be as gentle as possible when he carefully extracts himself from Dean’s tangled limbs. Upon Castiel’s escape Dean frowns slightly in his sleep, unconsciously reaching out for Cas’s warmth.

Castiel pretends not to feel his heart breaking. Again.

For the rest of the night, he sleeps on the floor.

\---( **but on and on, from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep** )---

Castiel groans as he drifts back into wakefulness, his muscles protesting at spending so long laying on a hard surface. A shuffling noise comes from the bed next to him, and Castiel blearily rubs his eyes.

Once they refocus, he sees Dean’s head poking out from above the mattress, staring at him incredulously.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing on the floor,” Dean huffs.

Castiel can’t help the slight blush that rises to his cheeks as he looks away. “You kept kicking me. In your sleep.”

Dean rolls his eyes and disappears from view for a moment before sitting up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed as he stretched. “You coulda just woken me up, man.”

Cas rips his gaze away from the strip of skin that became exposed when Dean’s shirt rode up. “Uh, yes, I will—I’ll do that. Next time. If—if we spend another night, that is.”

Dean shoots him a funny look, but remains otherwise silent. Castiel took a moment to sit up and reorient himself. The water was running in the bathroom, signaling that Sam was probably in the shower. There was a bag that seemed to contain pastries on the rickety dining table next to three cups of coffee. Most likely courtesy of Sam. Dean seemed to have just woken up and was currently in the process of tugging off his shirt and replacing it with a fresh one.

Castiel was trying hard not to stare at his chest.

He was failing.

“So, you ready to gank this vamp?”

Castiel blinked and reluctantly tore his gaze away from Dean’s now-covered torso. “Um, yes, I believe so. It appears to be a pretty straight forward case, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Dean grunted and made his way to the bag of pastries, pulling out a donut before shoving it towards Castiel. When Cas shook his head Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, man, you hafta eat. You can’t fight a vamp on an empty stomach. Seriously, either you eat this, or you aren’t going.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean petulantly, and Dean simply responded by raising his eyebrows expectantly and waving the donut around. _Screw Dean and his stubbornness, Castiel was doing just fine without food, thank you very much._ I mean, really, donuts themselves hardly offered any sustenance. What good would it do for Castiel to force himself to endure digesting one? Regardless, Castiel begrudgingly pushed himself up from the floor and snagged the donut from Dean’s hand, purposefully ignoring the smug look on the other man’s face. God, at times like these, Castiel really wished he still had the ability to smite.

Somehow Castiel managed to choke down his far-too-sweet breakfast by the time Sam emerged from the shower. The three of them made quick work of getting ready, stocking up on weapons and dead man’s blood. Just in case.

This case was simple—in fact, half the work was already done for them. There was no need to go to the morgue or interview families, and they already had a vague idea of where the vampire should be located. So, really, this should be an easy case.

_Should be._

\---( **I’ll be there by your side, just you try and stop me** )---

“Cas, man, seriously, when are you ever gonna learn how to keep your lapels straight?”

Castiel huffed and absentmindedly batted Dean’s hands away from his rumpled trench coat, trying to keep an eye out for any sign of vamps. He liked wearing the trench coat on hunts; it made him feel safe somehow. Secure. Even through it was hot as hell.

They were trekking through the woods where the vamp supposedly lived, looking for anything out of the ordinary. At least, they were _supposed_ to be looking for anything out of the ordinary. Dean seemed more intent on fussing over Castiel’s wardrobe.

The air was muggy, and apparently the mosquitoes hadn’t gotten the memo that summer was almost over. How such miniscule creatures could be such a nuisance was beyond Castiel’s understanding. His palms were sweating, and every so often the handle of his machete would begin to slip out of his grasp.

“Woah, wait, is that a cabin?”

Castiel snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention to where Dean was looking. It was hard to make out through the densely packed trees, but there did appear to be a wooden structure up ahead. Both men stopped walking, glancing warily at the structure.

“Should we wait for Sam?” Castiel asked. “I have a feeling that’s the vamp’s hideout, and it may be useful to have more than two people.”

Dean scoffed. “I could take on a vamp one-on-one anytime, there’s no way we would need all three of us. Besides, Sammy was so sure the vamp would be in the other direction. Once we gank this S.O.B., we get all the bragging rights.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean’s smugness, still not convinced they should go alone. He just had this feeling…

“ _Cas_. We’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have suggested we and Sam split up in the first place if I didn’t think we could handle it.” The sincerity in Dean’s eye thawed Castiel’s doubts slightly, but not completely. _That feeling_. It was like he could tell something wasn’t right, somehow. “Look, if you’re really that worried about it I can go alone. I don’t mind.”

Now _that_ snapped Castiel out of it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. I wouldn’t let you go alone.”

“Are you sure? I get if you’re worried and all—”

“I’m fine. Let just get this over with.” He quickly started marching towards the cabin, Dean scrambling to catch up with him. “How should we approach this?” he asked as they walked.

“I say we just go straight through the front door. It’s noon, I bet it’ll still be sleeping—if this even is the vamp’s hideout.”

Castiel only had time to nod before they arrived at their destination. Dean slowly made his way up the three rickety steps, wincing as one of them creaked. Both of them froze, listening for any sign that the vamp may have heard them. When no noise came, Dean ascended the final step and signaled to Cas before opening the door.

They entered a decidedly empty living room—one that looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Huh,” Dean said, glancing around in apparent disappointment. “Well, I guess— _shit,_ Cas, watch out!”

Castiel immediately spun around, swinging his machete towards the vampire that had managed to sneak up behind him. The vamp deflected the blow easily, a twisted grin spread across his face. Cas heard Dean let out of string of curses from behind him, and glanced back to see him locked in battle with another, female, vampire.

Oh great.

There were two of them.

Castiel turned back to his own opponent just in time to receive a sharp punch to his ribs. He gritted his teeth and swung his blade again in retaliation. This time he managed to catch the vampire in the arm, but didn’t have time to continue his attack because Dean suddenly let out a cry of pain from behind him. Panicked, Castiel swung back around to the hunter who had fallen to his knees, clutching his temple in pain.

The other vampire had struck him in the head with the butt of her pistol.

 _Her pistol_.

The vampire had a _gun._

The male vampire took advantage of Castiel’s distraction by seizing his arms and pulling them behind him, rendering them immobile. Castiel struggled against the hold, focused on nothing but Dean’s wellbeing.

“I can’t believe my luck,” the female vampire was saying. “I mean, really, what are the chances I would be the one to take down the infamous Dean Winchester. And his little angel, too,” she added, flitting her gaze towards Castiel with a grin. “Oops. Sorry, _ex_ -angel. My bad.”

Dean struggled to get to his feet, still disoriented, but the vampire roughly shoved him back to the ground. “Now now now, we can’t have you escaping, can we?” she cooed.

Castiel growled at her, struggling more harshly in his attempt to get to Dean. “Leave him alone.”

The blonde turned to him, all wide eyed and innocent. “Oh, sugar, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She shook her head sadly, walking towards the door before stooping and turning back to Dean. “You see, I can’t leave him alone, because I intend to have his pretty little brains all nice and spread out across my wall.”

In the next instant, a lot of things happened at once. For one, Castiel somehow managed to break free of the male vampires hold, sparing a second to decapitate him before surging forward. Secondly, the vampire swiftly drew her gun and aimed it straight at Dean’s head. Third, Sam suddenly appeared in the doorway, running forward with his own machete ready. But Castiel knew he wouldn’t get there fast enough.

He didn’t even have time to think about it. He just lunged forward reflexively, throwing his body in front of Dean’s a split second before the vamp even pulled the trigger.

He didn’t have time to think about it. But, had he had the time, he probably would have thought about how important Dean was to him. He probably would have thought about how he would never be able to even _think_ about living without the hunter by his side. He probably would have thought about how at this point he wasn’t really living much of a life anyways, and how it wouldn’t really make that much of a difference if he was gone. He definitely would have thought about the fact that Dean’s life was worth about a thousand of his own, and about the fact that even after all these years, he still privately regarded it as his mission to protect Dean at all costs.

He didn’t have time to think about any of this before the bullet ripped through his stomach.

But he did have enough time to think “this is worth it” before everything faded to black.

\---( **I’ll be waiting in line, just to see if you care** )---

Castiel regained consciousness slowly. Painfully.

First of all, he became aware of the fact that his body felt like it had been hit by a train. Repeatedly. On top of that, his mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert and his left hand was uncomfortably warm. With no small amount of effort, he managed to pry open his crusty eyes and look around the room.

He was apparently back in his room at the bunker. It was dark, the only light coming from a lamp on his bedside table. But he could see under the door that the hallway was well lit, so it was probably day time. His head and back were propped up by some pillows, and a glance down revealed Dean was sitting in an arm chair, fast asleep, slumped forward so that his upper-half sprawled across Cas’s bed. The heat on his left hand tuned out to be from Dean’s own hand wrapped around it.

Castiel smiled warmly at the sound of the hunter’s gentle snores before everything came rushing back.

 _Oh._ He was _alive._ That was certainly unexpected. He now noticed that his stomach was tightly wrapped in gauze, and there was extreme discomfort emanating from that area. Castiel squinted at Dean, trying to discern any visible injuries in the dim light. There was a nasty bruise and cut on his head, but other than that he appeared to be unscathed. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he had actually succeeded in something for once. Dean was safe.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, watching Dean sleep peacefully, before the discomfort in his back became too much to bear. _How long has he even been asleep for?_

Castiel attempted to sit up as gently as possible, but the movement still managed to wake Dean up. Dean blearily raised his head and rubbed at his eyes, only to shoot up when he saw Cas staring at him with a nervous smile.

“Cas! You’re awake!” he exclaimed excitedly, eyes roaming over Castiel’s face.

A small smile quirks at Castiel’s lips. “So it would appear.” His voice was croaky from disuse, and Dean rushed to grab him a bottle of water from the bedside table. Castiel gulped down half the bottle in one go, grateful for the refreshing coolness it offered. He also downed the two painkillers Dean handed him. “How long have I been out?” he asked when he was done.

“Almost three days.” Oh. No wonder Dean seemed so worried. “How are you feeling?” Dean blurted out. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Stupid question, of course it hurts—”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel said gently, reaching to grab the hunter’s arm, “I’m fine. See? I’m okay.”

Dean seemed to relax slightly before he suddenly stood up from the chair, pacing around the room angrily. “What the hell were you thinking, Cas? That was some stupid ass shit you pulled back there! You could have died—’

“But I didn’t,” Castiel interrupted calmly. “And if I had… well, I would rather have it be me than you.”

“Bullshit!” Dean bellowed. “That is such bullshit, Cas! I was handling it just fine—”

“She was about to shoot you in the head, Dean! At least I might survive a bullet wound to the stomach. And do you have any idea how I would have felt if you died? Even though you refuse to acknowledge it, you know how much I care about you—”

“I care about you too, Cas! I would have felt just as bad if you died!”

Castiel laughed humorously. “Oh please, Dean. We both know it’s not the same—”

“But what if it is?” Dean yelled, chest heaving. Both of them froze, staring at each other.

“What?” Castiel breathed. Surely Dean was implying—no, _surely_ Castiel was misreading this.

Dean took in a shaky breath, stepping towards Cas for a moment before thinking better of it. “It—it is the same. I love you, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, no it’s not Dean, you’re just confused. This is, this is just because your misplaced worry about me, you can’t—”

“I can, Cas,” Dean said gently. “I’m not confused, either. I’ve known for years.”

“Then why—why—I said I _loved you_ and you _ignored_ —How could you—why would you hurt me like that?” Castiel said desperately.

“Because I was scared, okay?” The sentence came out as a shout, and Dean roughly shoved his hands through his hair. “Because I’m a fucking coward. And you deserve someone who’s not a coward, you deserve someone brave and selfless and perfect like you. You don’t understand, Cas, our family is cursed! First mom, then Jess, then even fucking Lisa—I couldn’t handle the thought of losing you too! Especially knowing that it would be my fault, all because I took a stupid risk for the sake of my own happiness!

“I was scared that if I ever admitted that I loved you, something bad would happen and take you away from me. So I pushed you away instead, because I figured it was better to at least have you as a friend, even if it killed both of us in the process. I just didn’t want you to die because of me. But then—then you almost died anyways, and all I could think about was how I never had the chance to even try to make you happy. And it _killed_ me, Cas, because you deserve everything—all the happiness in the world, and I was too much of a coward to even try to give that to you. That’s why I didn’t say anything, Cas. Because I’m just a stupid coward. You deserve someone better anyways—hell, you probably don’t even want me anymore, after how I treated you.”

Castiel instinctively trying to surge forward to pull Dean into a hug, but was stopped shot by the pain that ripped through his stomach.

Dean rushed forward at his pain, fretting over him. “Cas? Cas, what’s wrong? What do you need?”

Castiel blushed, frustrated at his limited mobility. “I wanted to hug you, but it hurts too much to move,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Oh.” Dean bit his lip and looked indecisive for a slip second before he awkwardly sat on the bed within hugging distance of Castiel. Castiel felt his heart swell with fondness, and this time he succeeded in his mission to wrap the other man up in his arms. He buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck, too distracted by the familiar smell at first to remember what he wanted to say.

“Dean,” he began, pulling back a bit to look him in the eyes. “I could never not want you. You aren’t a coward, or stupid, or any of the things you call yourself. I understand your fear, I was scared at first, too. And to me, _you_ are the one who deserves better. _You_ are the brave and selfless and perfect one. You’re the only one I could ever want, Dean.”

Dean gulped, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. His gaze flickered to Castiel’s lips before refocusing on his eyes. “Cas,” he whispered, “can I kiss you?”

A radiant smile stretched across Castiel’s lips. They still had a lot of work to do, and there was a lot of healing that still needed to happen (both physical and emotional), but for now he just nodded. “Please do.”

\---( **I’ll always be waiting for you** )---

**_FIN_ **


End file.
